It's A Long Way Down
by A.Deep.Life
Summary: In Narnia, she had been complete. Nowhere else could ever be home, and when time had passed and she began to feel threatened by the possible onset of something like healing, she became even more determined that nowhere else ever WOULD be.


**Set from Susan Pevensie's point of view. Lyrics in italics are from "Belle of the Boulevard" by Dashboard Confessional, which is the inspiration and recommended soundtrack for this story. Also it is not owned by me any more than the Chronicles of Narnia universe.**

Have any comments after reading? I would love to hear them. :)  


It wasn't just that she had been the belle of the ball.

It wasn't just that she had been widely considered the most beautiful woman in all Narnia, or that she could feel every eye on her as she crossed the room, or that suitors had lined up in the hope of getting to dance with her.

She had all those things in England too – she was still beautiful. She was still sought-after. Even without the title of queen, she still attracted attention and admiration at every party she attended.

No – it was that in Narnia, she had been complete. When she descended the grand staircase, feeling truly radiant in her own right, a confidence that made her generously willing to shine next to any other woman without needing to outdo her. When she stepped through the crowd, turning from side to side to greet attendees and seeing in every face a guest who was not only welcome but well-known, familiar and intimate and friendly. When she stood by the refreshment table piled high with delicacies, a wineglass in one hand, and threw her head back in laughter at a teasing jest of Mr. Beaver's. When she looked around and saw, lining the walls of the room, her dearest Narnian friends, many of them gazing back at her with both respect and affection. When she took to the dance floor on Peter's arm, Edmund and Lucy paired up beside them, as the four monarchs closed the ball with the last waltz of the evening. When she floated to bed after the festivities were over, exhausted but light on a cloud of happiness, her heart filled with love and secure in the knowledge that she was loved.

_Down in a local bar  
Out on the boulevard  
The sound of an old guitar  
Is saving you from sinking  
It's a long way down  
It's a long way_

Tonight, she was a long way from any glittering dance floor – Narnian or otherwise. Perched on a barstool in a dimly-lit and nearly empty room, Susan slowly swirled her glass as she stared down into the last remnants of her drink. Through the haze of smoke that hung in the air, the strumming of a lone figure on the raised platform against the wall drifted towards her and evoked memories – albeit only vague ones – of the richer, lyre and violin-embellished music once played by an orchestra of court musicians. She closed her eyes to block out the sounds and raised her glass for another sip.

_Back like you never broke  
You tell a dirty joke  
He touches your leg and thinks he's getting close  
For now you let him  
Just this once, just for now  
And just like that – it's over_

When she reopened her eyes, the haunted expression that they had just worn was forced from them. She sat straighter on her backless stool as she set down her glass, shifting her focus with difficulty to the stranger in front of her – the one who had been inching steadily closer for several hours now and was now blatantly fingering the edge of her skirt.

She ignored his drunken leer as she leaned back against the counter; she had no intention of encouraging or responding to him, but as she tilted her head to avoid meeting his gaze, she chose not to bother making the effort of halting his slurred words and clumsy actions either. Instead she closed her eyes again, erasing from her mind the recollection that the only reason she had decided to sit next to him and strike up a conversation in the first place was because the faintly gold and auburn hairs in his thick beard had reminded her of a lion's mane.

_Don't turn away  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Don't be afraid  
Keep it all inside, all inside  
When you fall apart,  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Life is always hard, for the belle of the boulevard_

Her brothers and sisters thought that she had become obsessed with nylons and lipsticks because she was trying to grow up too fast, or because it was her misguided way of trying to replicate the society of life as a queen. But the truth was that in the moment she had lost Narnia, Susan had known with a wrenching finality that she would never be able to find completeness again; and so she decided that she didn't want to try. Nowhere else could ever be home, and when time had passed and she began to feel threatened by the possible onset of something like healing, she became even more determined that nowhere else ever _would_ be.

The despair that had initially consumed her had long since faded. At first she had fantasized about wasting away under its weight, imagining that she would fade day by day until finally there was nothing left but to slip into an early end and early relief; but her body was determined to live even if her mind was not, and she had long been forced to stop hoping for any such reprieve.

By now, the unaffected façade she could put up was good enough to fool almost anyone, but tonight it had driven her here after the party was over, in an attempt to forget the growing effort it was costing her to keep that façade up. Blinking her eyes as they burned unexpectedly, she stared fixedly upwards at the slope in the ceiling until she was calm and able to look placidly forward with eyes that were quite dry.

_In all your silver rings,  
And all your silken things,  
That song you softly sing  
Is keeping you from breaking  
It's a long way down,  
It's a long way_

When she had first started going out there had been a few awkward moments when she suddenly found herself nearly overwhelmed by memories and tears in the midst of a roomful of chattering people, but her sense of self-control had developed quickly enough. Now, the jewelry and gowns that she slipped into before leaving home were as much a part of her mask as the laughter she feigned; they sapped her emotions dry until she was unable to feel sadness anymore, only automatically put on a show of the happiness that she couldn't truly feel either.

_Back here you never lost  
You shake the shivers off  
You take a drink, to get your courage up  
Can you believe it  
Just this once, just for now  
And just like that – it's over_

Under the influence of the beer he had been drinking all night, her suitor hopeful had now collapsed forward onto the bar and was snoring quietly. Barely even sparing him a look of disdain, Susan glanced towards the back of the room at the shadowy silhouette of the guitar player who continued to faithfully pluck his strings even though nearly all of his listeners had either gone home or were slumped into stupors too deep to hear him.

Partly because she wanted to get away from the snoring drunkard next to her, and partly because she didn't want to order again but wasn't ready to go home yet, Susan downed the rest of her drink and stepped off her stool onto the empty dance floor. Although the melody she heard wasn't one familiar to her, she found her feet moving in time with it, picking out a pattern of dance steps learned long ago from a strict faun dancing master. Spreading out her arms, she began to twirl alone, faster and faster so that the images of the dingy walls and peeling decorations around her blurred before her eyes.

_Don't turn away  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Don't be afraid  
Keep it all inside, all inside  
When you fall apart  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Life is always hard for the belle of the boulevard_

She had to admit that her siblings were right on one count – parties and socials did serve a purpose in her life, just not the one they imagined. Being among other people – people who had lived their entire lives in the dredges of England and were ignorant of the beauty of what lay beyond – helped her to pretend, just for a few hours, that she was one of them. Conversations that weren't punctuated with meaningful looks and references to another place and time – as those with Peter, Edmund, and Lucy so often were these days – certainly didn't plug or fill up the ragged emptiness she felt; but they distracted her enough to keep her from obsessively running her mind over the sharp edges of the emptiness until it bled, as she was wont to do when she was by herself.

It was when she was by herself that she allowed herself to lapse into her natural state of melancholy sadness. Unlike her brothers and sisters, who chose to handle their Narnian memories with some longing but mostly nostalgic fondness, Susan found that trying to remember Narnia with contentment nearly broke her – because it made her feel acutely how much was lost and could never be regained. The pain was the only way in which she bear remaining connected to the kingdom she still thought of as "hers", and ironically enough, it was when she was wallowing in it that she felt the closest thing to happiness.

_Please hold on - it's alright  
Please hold on - it's alright  
Please hold on_

Down in a local bar  
Out on the boulevard  
The sound of an old guitar  
Is saving you…

The bar had shut down nearly an hour ago, its remaining patrons had been forcibly kicked off the premises, and the guitar player had long since packed up and gone home; but still Susan remained, dancing a dance out on the boulevard that she had never had the occasion to use at any party in England. Tomorrow she would wake up and start her charade all over again, but for tonight she would melt into the shadows with which she felt a certain kinship, wishing she could suspend herself in time and hoping against hope that around some corner she would fall into an accidental portal that would take her home.

_Don't turn away  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Don't be afraid  
Keep it all inside, all inside  
When you fall apart  
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes  
Life is always hard for the belle of the boulevard_**  
**


End file.
